Chapter 6: Isan's Place
Isan brandishing the whip directly at the boy once more.
CRACK-CLANG!
Blocked again by the boy—a smirk enveloping his face.
"Huh…" Isan, his jaw slightly widened, sweat drooping.
The boy slowly walking towards Isan, one leg quivers so fast that only dogs could see.
"T-This…This!" He tightly holds the grip of the whip, his teeth grinding against each other.
"Who the hell do you think you are kid?!" He reels it back in, raising it in the air one more time.
CRACK-CLANG!
CRACK-CLANG!
CRACK-CLANG!
CRACK-CLANG!
Pitiful.
The boy steps forward.
*Huff* *Huff* *Huff*
Isan's body fully soaked, his back slouching, his arms lowered.
"No…Noo!" His head rises back up with his teeth closely shut.
The boy, his eyelids lowers, looking at Isan with pity.
He should give up…
This is…
…Embarrassing…For me!
Isan swaying left to right, nearly loosing his balance.
"Nnnghh!" He cleans the spit off his lower lip.
How could he dodge all that?
No one has ever blocked my whip—not much disgraced it like this!
He will pay for this!
Isan swings the whip again—but this time towards the side instead of head on.
Now, let's see how he'll do against this!
I'm going to wipe that irritating smirk off his face!
The boy looking at the whip head on, instead of blocking it—
—SWISH-SNAP!
The boy bends down as the whip effortlessly moves right above him, running straight to him.
Putting effort into each step.
He bolts at Isan as the wind blows much harder.
Isan's face whitens as he closes in…
His body trembling, this even reflects on the whip.
There's nothing he can do at this point.
He should know that whip while powerful…
It's useless in this situation…
Taking one last powerful step, he reaches within breathing length of Isan and ready to slice his head with his sword.
There it is… his face.
All drained of colour.
Well too bad.
Don't even care if he's the Kumigara anymore.
…
SWOOSH—
A mysterious voice cuts in.
"What's going on here?!"
—KSH!
The boy's blade, a hair's breadth from Isan's Adam's apple.
"What exactly is going on here?!" The voice cuts through the tense air, sharp as a snapped twig.
Isan sweating bullets, one bead dropping on the boy's blade, sliding down on to the ground. His eyelids, tremoring, barely able to look at the boy.
The boy's face twisted with wrinkles.
But he's nothing more than swine…
The real thing I should be focused on…
Is that voice…
The crowd, past their mud caked feet and worn clothes, they murmur as only a few things were clearly audible.
"Oh he's here!" A lady shouts.
"Damn, can't we just have normal lives for once?" I hear a man sobbing.
The boy looking confused.
Just who exactly is that person?
"Get out of the way, quickly now!" The same voice again shouts.
This time, that specific part of the crowd, parting like reeds before a storm, some stepping on back in fear, others craning necks for a better look.
"Isan? What kind of problem have you gotten yourself into now?!" The source of the voice reveals itself.
An older man who's shorter than both the boy and Isan, wearing a long katagira—A sleeveless jacket looking like it could poke eyes out, coupled with neatly designed trousers—The hakara…
Looking at the old man, the boy looks downwards at his own trousers as he grabs them gently.
Come to think of it…Where is my hakara?
The man walking slowly, but each step gushes authority and not the same kind of backwater authority of Isan.
The boy, intensifying his gaze on the man.
His dressing…The way he walks…
...This could really be the Ku—
WHAM!
Suddenly out of nowhere, Isan uses his head for once, uses it to body the boy with his larger body, driving him into the mud.
CLAMP!
Disgusting!
The boy's body and long coat, painted in brownish mud and a hint of horse shit.
How dare he!
His face, souring.
"Hehe…"
"...Hehehehe" Isan's chuckling reverberating right into his soul.
"No problem whatsoever here sir" He smiles as he faces the man.
"Oh…Is that so?" The old man stroking his whitish beard as he walks closer.
I swear, making me covered in their shit!
Looking just like them! —Like him!
The gossip-filled crowd murmurs.
They don't know that I can kill all of them and nothing will happen!
The boy's hand moving around in the mud like an animal, trying to get a hold of his sword…
He just can't disrespect the order of things!
Then the rest would start doing what he's doing!
…Found it…!
Gripping the sword tightly, the mud oozing from the gaps in my fingers.
"Huh… the boy on the ground…" The old man asks.
"Are you…Are you from the—" He still speaks as the boy's blood heats up the more.
I'll slit his throat.
I'll show him the wrath of messing with nobles.
The wrath of the—
" —From the Ujochi clan?"
—The Ujochi clan!
An abrupt silence fills the road—Only the slight wind blowing can be heard.
"S-Sir…"
"...Did you just say the Ujochi clan?" Isan, his voice breaking as he shutters back a little.
The crowd all staring at the boy on the ground and Isan's horrified look.
"No I didn't say it…"
"Be acting like a big dunce Isan!" He violently throws his hand up in a to and fro motion.
A puzzled look dawns on the boy's muddy face.
Wait… what?
How did he…
The anger settling down in his gut as the old man leans in closer towards the boy, packing his eyelids pretty close together.
"Yeah that is the crest…So you are of clan Ujochi." The man takes a step back, his hand hidden.
Isan, his body crumbling with sweat where he stands.
"Then why in the mud?" His soft voice melting into something more cold.
"..." The boy's eyes darkened, remaining silent.
"Ask Isan right over here." Standing up, the mud drooping to the ground as the boy rises.
"Isan! What did you do…?"The old man, his eyes closes for a second as he shouts.
"Kumigara Dorl…I… I…" Isan muttering, still quaking in his boots like a fool.
"Do you know who he is? Or maybe why he's here?!" Dorl shakes his hands as I hear a thick weight in his voice.
"So many times…"
"...So many times that you've proved to me that you're an absolute moron!" He widens his mouth as spit flies out.
"...." Isan's large mouth seems to shrink at that exact moment.
The boy trying to hide his smile—but can't help it.
Oh who actually cares.
"Hahahahaha." He bursts out in laughter, his hand still clenching the sword.
"Told you that you don't compare to me." he smirks as he points his blade towards Isan.
"I'm deeply sorry sir for his incompetence."
Dorl bows down towards the boy.
"Hey! Isan bow!" He loudly hushes, facing a bent but still standing Isan—not being able to put his face on the same level.
"Yeah Isan, bow." Still smiling as the boy points his hand downwards.
—The end of chapter 6—